


What Could Have Been

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Series: Fortune Favour Me [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana





	What Could Have Been

Sweat, blood and smoke — the air was thick with the stench of it, and heat rolled over her in waves as she parried and thrust. Her blade rose and fell in bright flashes, and the sounds of battle roared in her ears.

 _Don’t stop_ , she chanted to herself as her sword caught a soldier in the throat.  _They’ll kill you if you’re weak. Don’t be weak._

Only fury leant her strength; whatever reserves of energy she had were long gone. The soldiers rushed over them like a wave — on and on, until she wanted nothing more than to give in. She’d never been so exhausted in her life.

And yet…still she fought. She’d never raised a sword to so much as a practice dummy, and yet when the soldiers came for her she’d cut their throats without hesitation. She’d never seen a mage who wasn’t a healer or an advisor, and yet when one raised her staff to strike down the teyrna, Eilin had run her through.

It was just as well mages bled like any other person.

Eleanor bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for air. Her hair was a mess; braids askew, blood smeared across her nose. No Orlesian wallflower indeed, Eilin thought grimly, and offered her arm without comment.

The hall was a mess — corpses strewn in every direction, and blood splattered the walls and carpet. Her father’s men were using the heavy furniture to barricade the main doors, and she caught the outline of a few books piled in the roaring fire.

 _They’re just books_ , she reminded herself, and tried not to wince at the sight.

Rory stood in the centre of the hall barking orders left and right. He looked as filthy as they were, covered in gore with blood matted in his hair.

“Go!” he snapped at the nearest soldier as Eilin limped over to him. “Man the gate. Keep those bastards out as long as you can.”

“Rory,” Eilin said weakly, her smile turned into a grimace. “Good to see you in one piece.”

“Maker’s breath!” He was suddenly at her side, taking Eleanor’s weight on his own arm. “Your Ladyship, are you alright? We thought Howe’s men had gotten through.”

“They did.” Eilin wiped her face on an already dirty sleeve, scrubbing hard to get the spatters of half-dried blood off her cheeks. “Are you injured?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad to see you both mostly unharmed.”

“I’m fine,” Eleanor said, and allowed herself to be seated next to a makeshift barrier. “I can’t say the same for Eilin.”

“Oh, I’ll live,” Eilin said cheerily. She straightened up and hissed through her teeth as her left arm dropped, and Rory gave her a withering look. “What?”

“Show me,” Rory said.

Rolling her eyes, she gingerly peeled back the collar of her shirt. “I caught a swordpoint from a soldier in one of the last battles. It’s nothing.”

“That is not nothing,” Rory said sternly. “That needs to be treated right away.”

“Oh, no.” Eilin shook her head vigorously, pushing his hand away. “No, we need to go. We don’t have time for this.”

“We have time enough,” the teyrna said from her seat on the floor. “Darling, please let him treat it. We have a long night ahead of us.”

Rory drew Eilin away from the guards and her mother and seated her against the wall, where  a few tables made a makeshift barricade and shielded her from view.  _A good thing_ , she thought, as he began to cut the shirt away from her wound. He seemed to realise her train of thought seconds later, and actually blushed.

“I—uh—begging your pardon, but I will have to remove—”

“Just do it.”

Her shirt was stuck to the wound by drying blood and pulling the material free hurt like blazes. Eilin endured, clenching her fists in her lap until her knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he worked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Could be worse.” She gave him a smile that turned into a grimace as he trickled water over her shoulder. “I could be dead.”

“That won’t happen any time soon, Maker willing. You know I wouldn’t let any harm come to you.”

Eilin flashed him an annoyed glance, but said nothing. She knew how Rory was, and arguing with him was pointless.

"I barred the gates when I realised what was happening," he said as he worked. "They won’t keep the soldiers out for long."

"Have you seen Bryce?" the Teyrna called. She stood with her back to them, re-braiding her hair.

“Yes, Your Ladyship. He’s been badly wounded.”

Eilin grabbed his arm, her face whitening as the movement jolted her shoulder.

“Where did he go?” she demanded.

“To the kitchens. He thought to find you at the servants’ exit.” Rory tied the makeshift bandage on Eilin’s shoulder, and offered her a rumpled shirt. “He said he would wait for you there.”

"Bless you, Ser Gilmore," Eleanor said as Eilin pulled on the spare shirt. "Come, darling. We must make haste."

Eilin shook her head and pulled away when her mother touched her arm. “I’ll help Rory hold the gates.”

"They won’t hold!" Rory replied. There was an edge to his voice, and he’d dropped his usual polite tone. "It will only delay the inevitable. Please, escape while you have the chance."

Eleanor was already moving towards the door, raising her bow. Dannar followed her, whining.

"Come, darling!" she called. "We need to go. Now!"

Eilin did not move.

 _“Eilin!”_  Eleanor said.

Eilin closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“I can’t leave you,” she said, hating the way her voice sounded, hoarse and cracked and weary.

He reached for her, and she caught his hand and brought it to her lips.

“Eilin,” he said affectionately, and stroked the matted tangles of hair back from her face. “Kill some soldiers for me, eh?”

Her answering laugh turned into a sob. There was far too much unsaid — their whole friendship had been defined by words held back and long silences. But her mother was hovering, and shouts of the soldiers sounded through the main doors. So she drew away.

“Maker watch over you,” Rory said, and Eilin turned away so he couldn’t see her face.


End file.
